


Warm My Bones

by blacktofade



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 16:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20100253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktofade/pseuds/blacktofade
Summary: Shane isn't meant to go into heat, but he does.





	Warm My Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from [Time by Pink Floyd](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A7pI96Osp9c) because sometimes it just be like that.

Shane’s neck starts itching on a Tuesday.

“This is the biggest tea I could find,” Shane says, placing a to-go cup beside Ryan's keyboard.

Ryan glances over at him, nudging his headphones back to uncover his ears before saying, “What?”

Shane rubs at his neck as he sits down, chair bouncing under his weight. “Never mind,” he says. “Just drink it.”

Ryan gives him a pointed look, like maybe he’s expecting Shane to have poisoned it. He picks the cup up and sniffs at the lid. "Chai?"

“Hot pee,” Shane corrects and Ryan kicks at him under the desk before finally laughing and taking a sip.

“Mm, delicious,” he says with a smack of his lips, but when he smiles, Shane can tell it’s genuine. “Thank you.”

Shane grunts and takes a drink of the coffee he picked up for himself. “Don’t get used to it,” he says and the itch on his neck gets a little bit worse.

*

By Thursday, there's a rash just under his jaw. It's mostly from where he's been endlessly scratching at the skin, but he tries Neosporin, which does jack all, and buying an unnecessarily expensive box of Benedryl from CVS doesn’t do anything except make him a little more tired and leave him with a four foot receipt.

“You should get that checked out,” Ryan tells him as Shane drops his work bag onto the floor, nudges it under his desk, and never once misses a beat while scratching. He sits down and forces his hand away with a sigh of annoyance.

“You sound like my mom.”

“Your mom is nice, so I'm gonna take that as a compliment,” Ryan retorts and Shane spins his chair just enough to face Ryan and shoot him an unamused look.

“Don’t make me regret the fact that I brought you leftovers,” Shane tells him and Ryan cocks his head to the side.

“Leftovers? Now _you_ sound like _my_ mom.”

“It's lasagna,” Shane says. “There's a tupperware full of it in the fridge nearest the door.”

“Huh. Thanks.”

“I made too much,” Shane explains. “You're not special.”

“Great,” Ryan says blandly, “Glad we cleared that up.”

Shane swivels back around to his monitors and drums his fingers against the tabletop because if he keeps them busy it means he can’t scratch his neck. It works for all of thirty seconds before he caves.

After a moment, Ryan says, “You really should get that checked out.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he deadpans, but unlocks his phone to see if he still has the number for his doctor. He doesn’t, but he knows he can find it once he’s home from work.

He nudges his phone away and opens Outlook to begin checking his email.

*

Wisconsin in February isn’t Shane’s idea of a good time, which feels like a traitorous thought to have with his hometown just across the border. Ryan keeps stomping his feet and blowing into his cupped hands, and they’re not even twenty minutes into their investigation.

“Fuck this place,” Ryan murmurs. “I should've picked another location in California to explore.”

“Why stop there?” Shane asks. “Do you believe there are ghosts somewhere in the Bahamas?”

“We could definitely expense an all-inclusive trip in the name of ghouls, right?”

“Won’t know unless we try.”

“_Fuck_,” Ryan complains a moment later, back to stoping his feet. “Why the fuck is it so cold? Is this what you had to deal with growing up? No wonder you’re so fucking weird now.”

“Leave my upbringing out of this,” Shane retorts. “This is a fight between you and mother nature.”

Ryan makes a frustrated noise and blows a clouded breath into the sky as he exhales. His nose is red and his lips are beginning to chap, but he somehow makes it work. He looks as good as ever.

“Here,” Shane says, tugging his gloves off one finger at a time before holding them out. “Take them.”

“No, because the second you get frostbite, you’re going to blame me.”

“How cold do you think it is out here?” Shane asks, giving his gloves a shake. “You need them more than me.”

“I don’t,” Ryan insists and Shane sighs.

“Okay, well take them so I don’t have to listen to you complaining then.”

Ryan narrows his eyes and Shane knows how stubborn he can get when Shane starts aggravating him. But he truly must be cold, because after only a slight hesitation, he plucks the gloves out of Shane’s hands and begins tugging them on.

“The weather said it was going to be in the fifties,” Ryan tells him. “Otherwise I would have brought my own.”

“Fifties?” Shane asks incredulously. “In no version of any universe is there a Wisconsin that has a day above forty in winter.”

“That’s just what I read.”

“Didn’t you learn in school not to trust everything you read?”

“What was I supposed to do, Shane?” Ryan asks, sounding genuinely annoyed as he throws his hands up in question. “I know nothing about this place.”

“You could’ve asked me,” Shane points out and Ryan huffs like that’s a ridiculous suggestion, and then tucks his hands into his armpits.

Shane watches him silently, beginning to notice how his entire body trembles as he shivers. Carefully, Shane unwinds the scarf from around his neck and leans over to wrap it loosely around Ryan’s instead.

“Shane,” Ryan tries to argue, hands already moving to pull at it, but Shane nudges them away. “I can’t take your gloves _and_ your scarf.”

“I’ll survive. This cold is in my blood.”

Ryan scoffs. “Yeah right — you’re a soft California boy now.”

It might be true, but Shane will never admit to it. He puts one hand in the pocket of his coat, the other, he uses to scratch idly at his neck. Ryan notices almost before Shane does.

“Did you get that looked at yet?” he asks, and Shane drops his hand, feeling caught, before slipping it into his other pocket.

“It’s fine,” he tells him, though he’s not sure it’s the truth. Other than being annoying, it’s not really affecting his life, which means he’s not in any hurry to actually see a doctor. “I’ll deal with it later.”

“What if it’s contagious?” Ryan says. “What if me wearing your scarf means I’ll get it too?”

Shane holds out a hand. “Then give it back.”

Ryan lifts his own hands, shielding himself like he half expects Shane to grab it back. “It’s fine.”

He tucks it tighter around his neck and Shane quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Hey, you guys ready?” TJ interrupts suddenly, rounding the edge of the building from where they’ve been gathering B-roll footage.

Ryan actually startles, knocking sideways into Shane, who quickly reaches out to steady him.

“Yeah, we’re ready,” Shane tells him, nudging at Ryan to get him to move out of his space. Ryan tilts his head and glances over at him before taking a step forward.

“Sure,” he agrees. “Let’s do this.”

Shane stuffs his hands back into his pockets and hates that they’re already going numb.

*

“I’ve got this,” Shane says, nudging his way ahead of Ryan in the Chipotle line, his debit card out, ready to pay. “Do you want chips and a drink?”

“That’s my line,” the cashier jokes, but looks towards Ryan expectantly.

“Are you making a habit of this?” Ryan asks and Shane sighs.

“Chips and a drink, Ryan. We’re not asking for the meaning of life.”

“No chips, but I’ll take an iced tea,” Ryan finally replies blandly and Shane pays with a minimal amount of fuss.

“This is the fourth time in two weeks that you’ve bought me lunch,” Ryan tells him as they sit down at a table near the back.

“Are you keeping track?”

“I mean, that’s a lot, Shane.”

“Is it?” Shane questions, already beginning to unwrap the foil from around his burrito.

“It’s four times more than normal.”

Shane is hungry; he’s ready to unhinge his jaw and swallow his lunch whole and Ryan is getting in the way of that.

“Are you complaining about free lunch?” Shane asks and Ryan pauses with a frown.

“No, I just — ”

“Okay, so what’s the problem?”

Ryan’s mouth thins and Shane’s neck begins to itch. He’s been trying not to scratch as much, but it just feels so much better after he gives in. He reaches up to scratch as subtly as he can, which is to say, not at all.

“You’re buying me lunch,” Ryan says, “and you still haven’t had that looked at.”

“You say that like they’re related.”

“They both lead back to you being an idiot.”

“I’m an idiot for buying you lunch?” Shane asks, watching Ryan poke at his bowl of mostly rice and beans with a fork.

“Just get it checked out,” Ryan insists with just a tinge of anger to his words, like maybe Shane really is an idiot for not noticing how much Ryan actually cares. “Do it for me.”

The itching worsens and Shane can’t help himself from scratching harder until Ryan grabs his wrist and pulls it down, pinning it to the tabletop.

“Stop it; you’re going to make it bleed.”

Shane really doesn’t care; he just wants to keep on doing it until the itch is satisfied, but Ryan reaches out with his other hand to prod at the ever-present mark on Shane’s neck.

“Is it sore?” he asks, but Shane finds himself shaking his head because the feeling of Ryan’s fingers against it actually seems to make the itching lessen. “Are you just saying that because you don’t want to go to the doctor?”

“It’s fine,” Shane says, pulling out of Ryan’s reach. Ryan lets his wrist go with an unhappy sigh, like he knows he can’t force Shane to do anything, but wishes he could. “I’ll get it looked at.”

“You keep saying that — ” Ryan starts and Shane frowns at him enough to make him stop. “Sure, whatever. It’s your body.”

He digs into his food with a lot more aggression that it probably warrants and Shane continues unwrapping his burrito, knowing he's fucked up.

*

“That looks like a heat itch,” Doctor Avila says, tracing the edge of the mark on Shane’s neck. She sits back and pulls her gloves off, tossing them into the trash while Shane goes back to scratching at it.

“What?” he asks with half a laugh. “How can it be a heat itch?”

“It’s not uncommon — people get them all the time.”

“_Omegas_ get them all the time,” Shane replies, dropping his hand into his lap to try to keep from making anything worse.

Shane blames it on the fact that it’s his first visit with Doctor Avila, but it doesn’t instill a lot of confidence when she looks down at his chart and says, “Oh, huh.”

“Yeah, _huh_.”

He goes back to scratching, unable to stop himself.

“Have you ever had a heat?”

“Not since I was sixteen.”

She looks up from where she’s making a note. “Is that when you Revealed?”

Shane nods. “Yeah, when I found out I was an alpha.”

She makes another note. “No shared heats since then? You haven’t found anyone compatible?”

“I’m nose blind,” he says and he’s pretty sure doctors are trained not to look surprised, but Doctor Avila’s eyebrows shoot towards her hairline.

“So, why would your body trigger a heat itch?” She says it to herself — or at least Shane hopes it’s to herself, because he came to her for answers because he literally has nothing. She taps her bottom lip with the end of her pen. “Are you dating?”

“Uh, no. Not currently.”

“Any strong feelings to someone in particular? Since you’re nose blind and can’t scent anyone, it might be your body’s way of compensating.”

“How strong would the feelings have to be?” he asks cautiously and tries his hardest not to picture Ryan in his mind. He’s been doing a good job so far of ignoring feelings, and if he’s accidentally sent himself into heat because of it, he’s going to be more than a little annoyed.

Doctor Avila sets her pen down and offers him a sympathetic smile. “Bodies can be stubborn,” she tells him gently. “We can try suppressants, if you’d like.”

“Do they work on alphas?”

“There have been mixed results,” she admits. “Not many alphas go into heat on their own, so the research is spotty, but they’ve been proven to be safe for alphas not in heat. They’re sometimes used as antidepressants.”

“Oh,” Shane says, surprised, because he honestly never knew.

“There’s a stigma surrounding their use outside of the omega population,” she tells him and Shane shrugs like he understands.

“People don't like talking about it.”

She nods in agreement. “While on them, you may notice a dip in your appetite and sexual drive. If your heat symptoms start to get worse, stop taking them. I’ll put in an emergency prescription and you can pick them up after you leave.”

“What happens if I do go into heat?” Shane asks after a moment and her mouth quirks down in empathy.

“Do you have a heat partner who could help?”

“Not really.”

“It’ll be harder without one, but it should only last a few days. You might want to swing by an urgent care afterwards. Dehydration can be dangerous for anyone who goes through a heat alone.”

Shane nods and tries not to think about it. In a perfect world, the suppressants would work as intended and he’d go back to his normal, non-itchy self in no time.

“Thanks,” he says and she offers him a small smile.

“No problem,” she replies gently. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss while you’re here?”

*

Shane returns to work after lunch, his bottle of newly-acquired suppressants tucked into a pocket of his bag. He’d taken one in the CVS parking lot, washed down with some lukewarm Powerade he’d found in his car door. He’s still itchy, but he’s not expecting an instant miracle. The pamphlet stapled to his prescription bag had said it could take up to three days to notice any changes.

“So?” Ryan asks, barely giving Shane enough time to wake up his computer and turn his monitors back on. “What did the doctor say? Do I need a hazmat suit to sit next to you?”

Shane nods solemnly. “It’s the most contagious thing she’s seen in her thirty years of practicing medicine.”

“What?” Ryan asks, sitting up a little straighter and scooting his chair back a few inches. Shane doesn’t know if he loves or hates how easy it can be to tease Ryan sometimes.

“You literally started that joke, Ryan,” he complains. “It’s nothing. Just an irritation — so at least you have something in common with it.”

“You’re such a dick,” Ryan tells him, but it’s punctuated with a laugh, which means it doesn’t count.

“Yeah, okay,” Shane agrees and hides his smile by turning back to his computer.

*

"Are you meant to smell like that?" Ryan asks, slumping into the seat beside Shane in the cafeteria.

Shane’s halfway through a plate of something he’d found leftover in a conference room, and Ryan drops a clear takeaway container of something that might be healthy onto the table.

"Rude," Shane replies, picking a piece of rice from between his teeth and sucking at it in a way he knows Ryan hates.

He hasn't seen Ryan all day — Shane thinks he's been out for a dentist appointment — and he hates to admit it, but he's kind of missed him. Ryan pops open the container and starts poking around at his food with a plastic fork.

"Aren't you meant to wait a while before eating after seeing the dentist?" Shane asks.

"I was at the optometrist," Ryan tells him in the same voice he usually uses whenever he calls Shane an idiot, which is fair.

"What’s the diagnosis? Still blind?”

"You're really not funny," Ryan says, but his expression is soft, like he doesn't mean it. "Are you trying to avoid the question?"

"The question being —?"

"You smell weird."

"Do you know how questions work?" Shane asks. "Because I'm pretty sure that wasn't one, and for the record, I think it’s weirder that you actually said it aloud.”

“I, uh — ” Ryan tries, clearly a lead up to an apology, but Shane shakes his head.

“It’s fine. It’s probably just the medication they gave me for my neck.”

“Oh,” Ryan says, like that’s not what he expects. “They gave you something? Is it working?”

As if on cue, Shane’s neck begins to itch and he’s not strong enough to ignore it. After a brief scratch, he says, “Not really, but she said it would take a few days.”

“It doesn’t look any better.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Shane deadpans and Ryan sighs and goes back to poking at his food.

“How long are you going to smell like that?”

“I’m not forcing you to sit there,” Shane points out. “Breathe through your mouth.”

“That’s worse,” Ryan retorts. “I don’t need to _taste_ you.”

Shane coughs into his lunch, simultaneously dropping his spoon into his bowl as he reaches up to scratch at his neck, which prickles uncomfortably.

“Okay, I’m gonna just — ” Ryan starts, grabbing his lunch with one hand and pointing to the door with the other. His cheeks are tinged with a blush that Shane knows not to comment on.

Before Shane can make the bad decision to ask Ryan to stay, he’s already up and across the room, going who knows where. Shane knows it’s for the best, mostly because his stupid neck finally stops itching so much, and any moment that he’s not dying to scratch it is a blessing.

He picks up his spoon again, knowing better than to question it.

*

The morning Shane stops taking his medication is the morning he pops a half-knot in the shower. It’s still soft — nowhere near close to an actual heat-knot, but it’s sensitive when he keeps one hand squeezed firmly around it as he comes. The pills aren’t working, and if he’s unlucky enough, he'll probably slip into an actual heat now.

He’s only ever had one before, and it’s been so long since then that he honestly doesn't know what to expect. He doesn’t even know what his heat symptoms are, beside his heat itch, _obviously_.

He leans his forearm against the cool shower tile and tries to catch his breath. He’s not ready.

*

They're thankfully done with the travelling part of _Unsolved_, but there’s still a little bit of on-set footage to film. It’s the easiest part of Shane’s job because he gets to sit and listen to Ryan talking while taking cheap shots at whatever ridiculous theory he comes out with.

"I just don't understand it, you know?" Ryan says and Shane blinks up from his phone. They’re waiting for the team to finish setting up sound and cameras for the room and Shane’s spacing pretty hard. Lately, his brain has been, for lack of a better word, fuzzy.

“Understand what?”

Ryan frowns and turns his chair to face him. “Have you been ignoring me this whole time?”

“Ignoring is a strong word,” Shane jokes and Ryan huffs a laugh.

“I was talking about flights. Why do they have to be so expensive?”

“How else will they break your spirit, Ryan?”

“Can’t they find another way to do that?” he sighs. “I’m just trying to get to New York for a wedding next month. Why does it have to be six hundred bucks?”

Shane knows for a fact Ryan can easily afford it, because they're making almost the same amount of money these days. But he understands the heart of Ryan's complaint — it really does suck. Especially when it’s just a wedding.

“I could buy it,” Shane says and he doesn’t even know why. It’s such a stupid thing to slip out of his mouth and if he traces the thought back, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to find the source. It’s just a sudden urge he gets because it’s something Ryan wants.

“Uhh,” Ryan replies, which is exactly what Shane’s thinking. “What?”

Shane blinks and shakes his head slightly because his thoughts feel too jumbled together. He just can’t seem to clear the fog.

“If money is tight,” Shane quickly tries to correct. “You know I’m always good for a loan."

“What?” Ryan repeats and the itching of Shane’s neck grows steadily worse.

He scratches at it with blunt fingernails and says, “Or, I could just pay for it and you wouldn’t have to repay me. Whatever is easiest.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Shane replies, unable to stop the scratching nor the way his mouth seems to be running off without his brain. Ryan watches him for a moment, fidgeting with a pen as though he needs to keep his hands distracted.

“You don’t need to do that,” he says quietly and Shane nods and shrugs lamely.

“Yeah, I know, I just — in case, y’know?”

“I’ve never asked you for that.”

“I know,” Shane agrees. “I just thought —” But when he stops to think about it, he has no idea what he thought. Again, it’s just something he wanted.

Ryan gives him a pointed look and Shane knows some kind of lecture is coming, but then Katie steps up to their desk.

“Guys, we’re ready when you are.”

Shane looks at Ryan, forcing his hand away from his neck, because if he can pretend that everything is okay, maybe Ryan won’t totally call him out. After a moment, Ryan blinks away.

“Sure,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

Shane lets out a breath of relief.

*

Shane really doesn’t have an explanation for what happens the following week. It’s like he blacks out and the next moment he’s conscious again and dropping a box onto Ryan’s desk. Ryan blinks up at him in confusion.

“What’s this?” he asks and Shane shrugs, scratching idly at his neck before sitting down.

The second Ryan opens the box, Shane knows he’s fucked up.

“What is this?” Ryan repeats, but his voice has lost the teasing edge to it. He actually sounds _worried_. “Shane?”

“I, uh — you said — ” Shane starts awkwardly. “You said you wanted these. I saw them online, so I thought I’d grab some for you."

Ryan turns towards him, his expression incredulous. “Shane,” he says, sounding serious enough that Shane’s stomach sinks. “God, Shane, you better have the fucking receipt. These are the new Air Jordans.”

“Yeah,” Shane agrees. “They had the color you wanted.”

“_Shane_,” Ryan insists. “_Fuck_.”

He cards his fingers through his hair and Shane really doesn’t see what the problem is. All he did was get Ryan a pair of two-hundred dollar shoes that he’s been wanting. It’s not a big deal.

“Okay,” Ryan says, letting out a long, slow breath. “Let’s go find a conference room. We need to chat.”

“What?” Shane asks, even as Ryan stands up, tucking the box under his arm and gesturing for Shane to follow his lead.

“C’mon. We’re not doing this in front of everyone.”

Shane knows better than to ask what he means — there’s a heaviness in his stomach that definitely shouldn’t be poked at in public.

He pushes himself to his feet and keeps his eyes lowered as Ryan leads the way.

*

“You’re going to return these,” Ryan tells him as soon as the door swings shut behind them.

“But — ” Shane starts, because he wants to point out that they’re just a gift and he’s allowed to do whatever he wants with his money. Ryan’s expression says otherwise.

“_No,_” Ryan argues. “You’re returning them. _Fuck_, Shane.” He paces the length of the room — barely three steps each way — and Shane leans against the table at the side and folds his arms. His hackles are up and he knows he’s not going to like whatever argument Ryan is about to throw his way.

He pauses within arms-reach of Shane, rubbing at his face, fingertips tracing the slight circles under his eyes. He looks tired and Shane gets a sudden, bone-deep urge to take him somewhere quiet to let him rest. He finds himself shifting, moving like he’s ready to start herding Ryan towards the door, his thoughts fuzzy, but centered on how he can get Ryan home and tucked into bed. He blinks to clear his mind, quickly quashing the urges before he can get himself into more trouble.

“There’s something wrong with you,” Ryan says, pushing soft, unstyled hair away from his face, the same way he does whenever he's stressed.

"You tell me that a lot."

"I'm not kidding, Shane," Ryan snaps, but Shane knows. The tense line of Ryan's shoulders already says enough. "You're — "

Whatever accusation Ryan's about to throw out hangs in the air, unspoken, as he takes a step towards Shane, staring at him in an unnerving way that makes it feel like he can see into his soul. 

“Are you serious?” he asks eventually, his jaw shifting like he's grinding his teeth. Shane doesn't know what he's talking about, so he says nothing.

Before Shane's sluggish brain can catch up and stop him, Ryan reaches out and pinches gently at the side of his neck. The touch alone is a shock, but the way his body immediately responds is even more so. His knees give out and he drops heavily onto the table behind, hard enough that it cracks ominously.

“_Fuck_,” he says and Ryan pulls his hand away, taking with it the blissful nothing that had filled Shane’s mind all at once.

“That’s a heat itch,” Ryan accuses, pointing at him. “You’re going into heat.”

It feels unfair that Ryan’s allowed to attack him like this when he’s still blinking away the white noise from his brain. He brings a hand up to cover the mark as Ryan takes a step back, putting space between them.

“I might not be,” Shane argues weakly and Ryan scoffs.

“I just knocked you off your feet with one touch. You’ve got a day or two max.”

“Fuck,” Shane says again, dropping his hand away, and Ryan’s expression softens slightly. “I’m not even meant to have heats.”

“You’re an alpha,” Ryan confirms. “With a heat itch.”

“Apparently,” Shane sighs with a shrug. “I confused my doctor, too.”

“They put you on suppressants,” Ryan surmises. “That’s why your scent has been weird.”

“I was. I’m not anymore. She thought they might help, but I think they’re just speeding things up.”

“_Fuck_,” Ryan says with feeling, which Shane can really relate to.

“Yeah,” Shane agrees, rubbing his hand the wrong way up the back of his head.

“Do you know the cause?” Ryan asks carefully and Shane finds himself shaking his head before he can stop himself. Ryan doesn’t deserve to be thrown under the bus like that. Whatever Shane’s body is deciding to do with his feelings is its own problem — Ryan’s _definitely_ not to blame. “Do you think you might have been scented by someone?”

Shane huffs a laugh. “No one in this office has anything above a class three scent. They’d have to declare it otherwise.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Ryan argues. “There was new legislation last year.”

“And you just so happen to know all about that,” Shane jokes, but the way Ryan looks at him makes him appear undeniably caught. Something rearranges in Shane’s brain and then he leans back in surprise. “What?”

Ryan cards his fingers through his hair and looks a little wild around the edges, like he doesn’t know what to do, like he's bottling something up inside.

Shane waits a beat before asking, “What are you?”

“A class four.” With a class four scent, Ryan could send anyone — alpha or omega — into heat with minimal effort. “But I promise, Shane, I would never knowingly do that to you.”

“I know,” Shane says quickly. “I know.”

“It’s just that sometimes if I have strong feelings, it can do its own thing. I took training last year to try to control it, but maybe I slipped up?” He pushes his hand through his hair again and it’s starting to stand on-end without any product to help. He’s panicking and Shane really isn’t in a position to help when he can’t even fix his own life.

“That only works if someone is receptive to it,” Shane points out unthinkingly and Ryan laughs awkwardly.

“Guess that means you’re safe then, huh?”

It takes Shane a moment to realize what he’s done, until Ryan’s soft, slightly resigned expression registers. Ryan’s just told him exactly how he feels — that he’s running under the assumption that Shane’s going into heat because he’s been unknowingly scenting him because he has _feelings_. And Shane’s accidentally insinuated that he doesn’t reciprocate anything.

While Shane’s brain screams _yes! yes! yes!_, his mouth says, “What?”

“What a relief, right?”

“Ryan,” he says delicately, “you can’t scent me because I’m nose blind. I can’t smell you.”

Ryan blinks at him for a moment, before a flush eventually starts spreading up his face. “Oh,” he says gently. “That’s awkward. Guess I just outed myself in like ten different ways.”

It’s true — Shane’s learned a lot of new things. He now knows that Ryan is an omega, has a class four scent, and likes Shane enough that he thinks he might accidentally send him into heat.

“I dunno,” Shane says. “Still not as awkward as accidentally sending yourself into your first heat.”

It’s meant to make Ryan laugh, but instead his gaze snaps onto Shane as he says, “What? Your first?”

“Yeah, turns out if you’re nose blind you don’t heat bond with anyone, so then it hits you out of nowhere when you’re thirty-three.”

He laughs, trying to pretend that everything is okay, but Ryan just looks at him with concern.

“Does your doctor know why? Why now?”

Shane takes a breath, but thinks it’s only fair that he tells the truth now.

“If I tell you,” he says, focusing his gaze across the room, “it makes us even.”

“_Shane_,” Ryan presses and Shane finally exhales.

“She thinks it’s a build up of feelings.”

Ryan stares at him with a blank expression. “Feelings,” he says blandly.

“She said I was focusing my attention on someone enough to cause a reaction.”

Ryan’s silent for a moment before he turns his head to stare at the shoebox sitting on the table beside Shane. He can almost see the cogs twisting in Ryan’s head and eventually, Ryan looks over at him.

“Is it too much of a cheap shot if I ask if the other shoe has dropped yet?” Shane jokes.

“You’re focusing on _me_,” Ryan says, ignoring Shane completely. It’s not a question, but he still looks confused.

“Like I said: we’re even.”

Shane wishes he could forever save the moment in his mind when it seems to dawn on Ryan what Shane’s actually saying.

“Oh my god,” Ryan blurts. “It’s been me this whole time.”

Shane thinks about doing jazz hands, but he’s not sure Ryan would appreciate it.

“_Shane_,” Ryan continues, apparently coming to another conclusion. “You’ve been feeding and taking care of me all month. That’s a classic heat sign. How long have you been ignoring this?”

“I haven’t been ignoring it,” Shane argues. “I didn’t know what it was.”

“You saw your doctor weeks ago,” Ryan points out and Shane folds his arms. “You should’ve said something.”

Shane laughs. “Like what? ‘Hey, buddy, I’ve sent myself into heat because I think about you too much. Can you help me out?’”

Ryan shrugs, “I’m sure you could’ve found a way to word it better, but _yeah_.”

Shane lets out a breath of frustration because his brain is still foggy and it’s hard to put a solid argument together. It doesn’t help that he gets hung up on the thought of Ryan being his heat partner. He scratches at his neck as it flares up and Ryan looks at him knowingly.

“Don’t say it,” Shane warns, but Ryan shakes his head.

“I could go off my suppressants,” Ryan tells him and it suddenly feels like the entire side of Shane’s neck is on fire. That’s not what he’d been expecting Ryan to say and now his brain seems to have gone offline completely because of it. He’s so itchy and he thinks Ryan’s saying something, but he just can’t focus.

Ryan tugs at his hand, suddenly closer as he forces Shane to stop scratching, but that’s not what Shane wants at all.

“You can’t just say that,” Shane complains, reaching around with his other hand to scratch instead, though Ryan grabs that one too.

“Fuck, I know — I’m sorry,” Ryan says in a rush. “But it’ll take less time for your heat to break if we sync them, and you shouldn’t be alone for your first time.”

“It’s not my first time.”

“First heat,” Ryan amends and it grows quiet between them. “You said we were even.”

Shane wishes he had a hand free to rub down his face. Instead, he has to stare anywhere but Ryan’s face to keep the itch to a minimum; he focuses on the soft collar of Ryan’s t-shirt and tries to ignore the heat of Ryan’s hands on his wrists.

“You’d have to go through an unplanned heat,” Shane tries, and Ryan shrugs.

“It’ll be okay. I’ll be with you.”

Shane feels rocked by the admission and his neck immediately starts to itch again, almost worse than before.

“_Ryan_,” he implores and Ryan’s hand travels up his arm, over his shoulder, where his fingers briefly pinch at Shane’s neck again. The relief washes over him like a gentle wave, rather than all at once, and Ryan sways in closer, inhaling quietly like he can’t help himself.

“I could bite it,” Ryan says softly. “It would stop it itching for a while.”

Shane nods before he can even really think about it. He just knows that Ryan’s offering something he wants and he’s weak for it.

“Yeah,” he says, turning his head and giving up more of his throat to Ryan, who moves his hand to Shane’s shoulder and pulls at him gently.

“Get down here,” he orders, and Shane bends his knees just enough for Ryan to lean in and settle his mouth over his heat itch.

Shane knows they really shouldn’t be doing this. They’re still at work and if they get caught, it’ll lead to a never-ending HR nightmare. But it also feels _great_ and Shane isn’t about to push Ryan away.

Ryan’s tongue swipes over the mark first and Shane has to reach back with one hand to brace himself on the table behind. His knees feel weak, but his whole body sags as Ryan finally digs his teeth in.

It’s a firm, steady pressure — not enough to break the skin, but enough to ache and make Shane want to give him _everything_. He lets out a soft noise and Ryan’s other hand comes up to clutch at his shirt, holding him right where he is, like Shane would ever think about moving. It feels perfect.

It makes his mind go blissfully quiet for the first time in weeks, and the buzzing under his skin finally settles.

When Ryan eventually lets Shane go, his brain stays muted, like Ryan’s finally found the pause button on him, and he finds himself leaning down to press his forehead to Ryan’s shoulder.

“Ryan,” he exhales and Ryan rubs at his back, like that’s all he has to offer.

“What do you want?” Ryan asks and Shane mind floods with everything he can possibly imagine before finally settling on one solid thought.

“You.”

“Okay,” Ryan replies gently, like he’s trying to soothe him. “We can make that happen.”

“I want to make you dinner,” Shane finds himself blurting, the urge to provide too strong to push down and Ryan laughs. It’s not a mocking laugh, but there’s definitely a questioning tone to it.

“You can’t cook,” Ryan replies fondly, pulling back to look at Shane with a soft expression.

“I made you lasagna before. I _want_ to do this for you,” Shane insists, entirely sure it’s just his heat talking, but Ryan nods like he understands.

“Okay, okay,” he agrees. “When? Tonight?”

Shane nods, though he’s pretty sure his fridge is empty and he won’t have much to offer unless he stops at the store on the way home — but that sounds like more effort than Shane has to give. He’ll make it work somehow.

“If we’re doing this, you need to take your laptop when you go home today,” Ryan tells him. “We’ll have to work from either your place or mine until we can take our heat leave.”

“My place,” Shane urges and Ryan shrugs like it’s not an issue for him. All Shane can think about is how perfect it’ll be to get Ryan into his bed, and Ryan has a flush on his face like maybe he likes that idea too.

The whole side of Shane’s neck throbs and he brings his hand up to rub at it without thinking. Ryan’s gaze briefly drops to it before he double-takes and moves Shane’s hands aside to look closer.

“_Fuck_,” he says, thumbing at where the itching is typically the worst for Shane. “It left a mark.”

Shane sets his hand over Ryan’s and meets his gaze.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, “It helps.”

Ryan shuts his eyes for a moment, like he has to regroup before he nods and pulls his hand away.

“I’ll need to stop at my place after work to pack a bag,” he explains gently, like he thinks Shane can’t figure that out for himself — which is fair because Shane’s brain is still mostly white noise. “I’ll come over after?”

“Okay,” Shane agrees. “I’ll make dinner.”

Ryan smiles like he’s trying hard not to outright laugh as he says, “Yeah, buddy, I think we established that.”

Shane blinks slowly, belatedly realizing that’s true. Ryan squeezes his shoulder gently, like everything’s okay, and Shane’s happy to believe that for now.

“C’mon,” Ryan says, “we should get back before anyone notices anything.”

Shane doesn’t bother pointing out that someone probably has — there are eyes everywhere at BuzzFeed, and the talk will start in earnest as soon as they both disappear from work for more than a couple of days. Their coworkers are going to know almost immediately that they’re spending their heats together, but honestly, Shane can’t bring himself to care.

He watches Ryan tug at his shirt, like that’ll fix the creases in it, and then follows him to the door.

“Ready?” Ryan asks and Shane nods. He is — as much as he’ll ever be.

*

Ryan shows up a little after seven that evening, a duffle bag slung over one shoulder and an insulated grocery bag on the other.

“Just in case,” he says, and when Shane peers inside, he finds a collection of Gatorade bottles, a bag of oranges, and some granola bars, which will definitely help when they’re exhausted but still need to eat and rehydrate.

“Good thinking,” Shane tells him, taking it and carrying it down into the bedroom for safe keeping.

“It smells good,” Ryan calls out when Shane heads back down the hallway and into the kitchen. He’s kicked off his shoes and set his bag by the couch, and when he looks at Shane, Shane’s stomach flips. He’s done something right; he’s made Ryan happy.

“It’s mac and cheese,” he says, moving to the stove to give the pasta a stir before it burns on the inside of the pan. It really does smell good, but he wonders for the first time if maybe he’s made too much. It had felt right when he’d started, but now Ryan’s here, he feels inexplicably scrutinized. He knows it’s probably just heat brain, but he has the sudden need for everything to be perfect.

There are three discarded Kraft boxes on the countertop and although Ryan trails his gaze across them, he politely doesn’t say anything about Shane's lack of creativity or cooking skills. Instead, he steps closer to Shane and rubs a hand between his shoulders.

“Thanks for making me dinner,” he says and Shane really isn’t prepared for the way his body responds.

His hands tremble where he’s gripping the stirring spoon and he can’t really think beyond the fact that Ryan is touching him and seems pleased by something he's done. He blows out a steady breath and turns to look at him. Ryan's expression is soft and expectant, like he knows what he's doing.

“You’ve done this before,” he says and Ryan nods.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “There are a few ways to make things go a little smoother for heats.”

“Will it start sooner if you — ”

“If we encourage it, sometimes it can,” Ryan explains gently.

“What would encourage it?”

Ryan shrugs. “Just follow your instincts.”

He says it like it’s just that easy, but Shane doesn’t think it is. His instincts are all over the place — it’s hard to pin down anything apart from the general feeling of needing to take care of Ryan. Though he doesn’t think it’s much of a leap from his everyday life. He’s always willing to keep Ryan safe from non-existent ghosts and sometimes stand up for him against the trolls that lurk on Reddit.

It’s probably just a little more physical now. Perhaps a lot more physical, because part of him wants to tuck Ryan against his side, just for the closeness. His hand twitches and Ryan’s gaze drifts to it.

“If you want to touch me, you can,” Ryan says, reading his mind. He follows it up with a laugh as he adds, “We’re about to go through a heat together — we should probably get used to it.”

Shane gives the pasta another stir and then sets the spoon aside; Ryan looks at him in anticipation.

It feels surprisingly natural to curl a hand over Ryan’s shoulder and draw him closer, and Ryan moves into his space like he’s been waiting for the opportunity. He tucks his face against Shane’s chest, winds his arms around his waist, and something inside Shane settles.

He can’t smell anything on Ryan, but it’s honestly exactly what Shane thinks his needs. It’s enough just having Ryan lean into his touch as Shane carefully rubs a palm along his back. Ryan lets out a soft, happy noise and Shane tightens his hold.

“Can you bite me again?” Shane asks after a moment. He can hear the mac and cheese starting to bubble unattended and knows he’ll have to stir it again soon.

“Is your mark itching?”

“No,” Shane admits, curling his fingers into the soft cotton of Ryan’s shirt. “It just felt good when you did it before and you literally just told me to listen to my instincts.”

Shane lets out a surprised laugh at the frantic way Ryan clutches at the back of his neck, but he goes willingly as Ryan pulls him down within reach. It seems they’re both getting what they want, because Ryan doesn’t hesitate before digging his teeth into the area of Shane’s heat itch. He’s not gentle about it, not the way he was in the office before, but Shane thinks that’s what he enjoys most now. It’s probably going to leave a bruise this time and Shane likes the thought of being marked.

Shane slips his fingertips under the hem of Ryan’s shirt, touching skin that’s soft and warm and makes him want to map out more. Ryan makes a quiet noise and his breath is hot against Shane’s throat.

They stay that way long enough for the bubbling to become unignorable behind them and Ryan eventually loosens his jaw and lets him go. He smooths his tongue over the mark and then pulls away completely with a sigh.

“I’ve never done this for an alpha,” he admits, his eyes on Shane’s neck, the tips of his ears pink.

“How many stars would you give it?” Shane tries to joke, though he has to clear his throat as his voice breaks in the middle.

“I’d definitely recommend it to a friend. I was worried it would take too long for my suppressants to stop working, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem if you keep letting me do that.”

“Noted,” Shane tells him, his mind going blank, because it’s a little too much to think about when he’s already overwhelmed.

Ryan watches him for a moment, like he’s wondering if he can already ask to bite Shane again, and Shane thinks he’d let him if he did. Eventually, Ryan coughs gently and tips his head towards the stove. “You should probably stir that before it burns.”

“Yeah,” Shane agrees, but it still takes him a moment to gather his wits enough to step away.

“I’ll set the table,” Ryan tells him, and it shouldn’t be an issue, but it’s so domestic that Shane pauses mid-way through stirring the pasta, just to glance back at where Ryan’s already pulling open the cutlery drawer without hesitation. Of course he knows where Shane keeps things because he’s in Shane’s place almost every week when there’s a new Unsolved season out. But it catches in Shane’s heat-fuzzed brain, and the fog descends on him a little further.

He turns back to the stove and knows in his gut that Ryan’s right — it won’t be long now before his heat hits.

*

“I shouldn’t have had a second bowl,” Ryan grunts as he climbs into bed beside Shane. He’s in the same sweats and t-shirt combo he wears for overnight ghost hunts, and the familiarity grounds Shane a little. It’s still just Ryan.

“I think I forced you,” Shane admits and Ryan laughs.

“You were a little pushy,” he agrees, “but you meant well.”

He plugs his phone into the wall and taps at it for a moment.

“I’ve already set my alarm,” Shane says quietly and Ryan locks his screen and sets it face down on the nightstand.

“What time?”

“Nine-thirty.”

They both usually start working around that time, which means he’s giving them extra time to sleep. Ryan doesn’t call him out, just takes his glasses off and then shifts under the covers, sliding a little closer.

“Sounds good,” he says and when he settles, Shane switches off the lamp beside them and stares up at the dark ceiling.

They’ve slept together in so many beds in so many different places, but now Shane can’t remember what to do. He doesn’t know how to arrange his body with someone else next to him, and worst of all, he doesn’t know how much he’s allowed to take from Ryan. He thinks the silence must be telling — loud enough for Ryan to know the knot Shane’s mind is tangling itself into — because Ryan rolls into his space, carefully sliding an arm around him.

“Is this okay?” Ryan asks and Shane shifts enough to let Ryan rest his head on his bicep, his hand tracing along Ryan’s back in return.

Shane prefers sleeping on his side, but tonight, he’s perfectly comfortable.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “This is good.”

He doesn’t remember anything more after that, because he falls asleep almost instantly.

*

Shane wakes before his alarm, but doesn’t need to check his phone to know that it’s early. The sun is barely beginning to creep around the edges of his blinds and Ryan’s snoring, quiet and even, against his chest, his face buried so closely against Shane that it’s a wonder he can even breathe.

Shane’s bordering on overheating because apparently Ryan runs hot, but he’s far too comfortable to think about moving more than to stretch out his legs. Ryan shifts against him, letting out a soft sigh as he tightens his arm around his waist, like he doesn’t want Shane to move either.

So Shane listens to their instincts by shutting his eyes and going back to sleep effortlessly.

*

“Are those pancakes?” Ryan asks, finally emerging from down the hallway.

Shane’s been awake and puttering around the apartment alone for almost an hour, because he hadn’t had the heart to make Ryan get up when he’d tucked his head under Shane’s pillow and asked for five minutes more sleep. He’d looked so comfortable after Shane had emerged from his shower that he’d just left him there, knowing that if there were anything important to deal with at work, he could field it for a while.

“Waffles,” Shane corrects, but Ryan’s expression only brightens further.

“I love waffles,” Ryan says, and Shane doesn’t bother pointing out that he already knows. There’s a reason why he’s making a mess of his kitchen on a Wednesday morning, and it’s not because he wants them for himself.

“Is that my shirt?”

Ryan glances down, like it’s a surprise, like he didn’t dig through the pile of discarded clothes outside Shane’s closet to put on a shirt Shane had tossed there the previous week.

“Instincts,” he explains succinctly, brushing a hand down the front, and Shane burns two fingers on the waffle-maker.

“_Fuck_,” he hisses quietly, bringing them up to his mouth. Ryan watches the movement, gently shaking his head as if to clear it, before stepping forward to grab a plate with a stack of waffles already on it.

“You’re eating too, right?” he asks. “Because I’d like that.”

Shane wasn’t going to, but now his body has decided for him. He’s going to eat as many waffles as Ryan wants him to.

“Sure,” he agrees. “Let me just finish this batch.”

*

Shane’s halfway through brushing his teeth that night when Ryan slips into the bathroom. To be fair, Shane had left the door ajar as a semi invitation, but it fills him with warmth that Ryan accepts it.

“Hey,” Ryan says. “Mind if I join?”

Shane doesn’t. He shakes his head and gestures at Ryan’s washbag that’s sitting on the edge of the sink.

There’s something intimate about the silence that falls between them; just the even brushing noise of Shane and the quiet hum of Ryan’s electric toothbrush. When Shane glances up into the mirror, Ryan’s already watching him, but Shane doesn’t blink away. There’s an ache deep in his chest that says he could do this every night with Ryan for the rest of their lives and never tire of it.

He spits into the sink and rinses his mouth and toothbrush, tossing it carelessly into the cup that sits beside the handsoap. He doesn’t think Ryan’s done his full two minutes brushing yet, but he still follows suit, grabbing the hem of Shane’s shirt before he can turn to leave.

“Hey,” he says again gently and Shane stares down at him, wondering what he did to deserve the way Ryan keeps looking at him in return. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Shane tells him, and it’s not a lie. “You?”

Ryan nods, raking his fingers through his hair, but Shane doesn’t quite believe him.

“You have no idea how good you smell,” Ryan admits after a moment, his hand tightening on Shane’s shirt, like he’s trying to stop how he feels. “You’re probably almost there.”

Shane’s brain has been sluggish all day, but it’s not that much worse than the days before it. He’ll have to take Ryan’s word for it.

Carefully, he reaches out and pulls Ryan in with a hand on his waist, and Ryan goes without a fight, burying his face into Shane’s chest. His breath is hot through the old cotton of Shane’s shirt, his hands even more so when they slip up the back to find skin to touch.

“_Shane_,” he mumbles, and a happy noise escapes Shane before he can stop it.

“Come here,” Shane tells him, and it takes no effort at all to dip down.

Ryan looks up, like he already knows Shane’s plan, and tilts his head just enough for Shane to find his mouth easily. It’s a soft, unhurried kiss, something Shane feels all the way down in his toes, and he thinks this is also something he could do for the rest of his life. Ryan shifts against him, aligning their hips until they're flush all the way down, and it can’t get any better than that for Shane.

He’s found exactly what he wants.

With a hand, gentle on Ryan’s jaw, Shane deepens things, his tongue slipping between Ryan’s lips without a care and Ryan pushes up onto his toes, kissing Shane back with enough force to know he means it. Shane’s entire world narrows down to his not-big-enough-for-two-people-at-once bathroom and the tight press of Ryan against him.

“Shane,” Ryan mutters again when they eventually pull away to draw in unsteady breaths, and Shane kisses the corner of his mouth, the patch of hair that’s slightly longer than the rest right in his laugh-line, the curve of his chin.

“Let’s go to bed,” Shane says against the edge of his jaw and Ryan nods.

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees, and the fact that he follows Shane out, not even attempting to argue about the merits of flossing, makes Shane’s heart swell.

*

Shane doesn’t know what time it is, but he wakes with his whole body on fire. It’s not the slight overheating like the morning before, it’s flat-out burning.

“Hey, hey,” Ryan says from beside him, his voice calming enough to clear through the fog of Shane’s mind. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

It’s his heat, Shane thinks with a slight panic, and it doesn’t feel anything like what the media would have him believe. If this is how omegas feel every time, it’s no wonder they all go onto suppressants as fast as they can.

“Can you hear me, Shane?”

“I’m in heat,” Shane forces out, “not going deaf.”

Ryan laughs like he can’t help it and his hand brushes Shane’s arm, spreading unexpected coolness across his skin. Shane lets out a shuddering breath and rolls into Ryan’s space, trying to find more of that relief. Ryan lets out a surprised sound, but folds his arms around him without hesitation.

“Skin contact helps,” he explains softly and Shane knows he must be speaking from his own experience. “C’mon, let’s get you out of this.”

His hands push at the hem of Shane’s shirt, rucking it up, and it takes Shane a moment to realize he has to briefly let go of Ryan for him to be able to tug it up and over his head.

“That’s it,” Ryan praises, tossing it over the side of the bed and immediately pressing his hands to Shane’s chest, spreading relief where he touches.

Shane rolls onto his back, offering up the entire expanse of his body for Ryan to do what he wants, but apparently all Ryan wants to do is stare down at him.

“Ryan,” he pleads quietly and Ryan passes his hands along Shane’s sides and makes an apologetic noise.

“Sorry, just wanted to appreciate this moment.”

“You’ve had years to appreciate me,” Shane complains, and Ryan’s hands slide down his stomach, heading down to the tie of his PJ pants.

“Not like this,” Ryan tells him. “I mean, outside of my imagination.”

Shane shifts his hips up, letting out a sharp breath as he thinks about what Ryan means. “You can’t just — ” he tries, but then doesn’t care because Ryan’s loosening his pants and tugging them down his hips with his boxer-briefs, and Shane’s so hard he thinks this might be how he dies.

Shane likes this confident and slightly reckless side to Ryan, but mostly he just likes the way Ryan wraps his hand around Shane’s cock and gives him exactly what he needs. He doesn’t tease and he doesn’t try to get Shane to put into words what he wants. He’s just always so good at being two steps ahead of Shane in the most unexpected ways.

“C’mere,” Shane says and Ryan bends willingly, letting Shane slide a hand into his hair as he pulls him into a kiss. It’s nothing like the one they shared in the bathroom. It’s solely to slake the burning ache in Shane’s body that's telling him harder and faster and _more more more_.

Ryan straddles Shane’s thighs, pressing one hand into the mattress beside Shane’s head and balancing delicately as he jerks him off. His palm keeps catching on Shane’s knot and Shane can’t even begin to think about what it might be like to press it inside him. It’s too much.

Shane nudge his fingertips under the waistband of Ryan’s sweats and hesitates just long enough for Ryan to get the point.

“Yeah,” he pants against Shane’s jaw. “Do it.”

Shane does. He slips his whole hand down the back of Ryan’s pants, his mind going hazy when he realizes Ryan’s not wearing underwear, like he’s been waiting for this moment.

“_Ryan_,” he exhales and he thinks it might be one part want and two parts complaint, solely because he’s not prepared for how it makes him feel.

His fingers immediately slip down, pressing at Ryan’s hole, just to see how he’s responding. He’s wet, but probably not enough for Shane to get inside him without extra lube.

“My heat hasn’t come,” Ryan murmurs, moving up to find Shane’s mouth again, an unspoken _yet_ hanging between them. It won’t be long.

It’s enough now for Shane to get his middle finger inside and Ryan rocks down against him, looking for pressure against his cock that he finds on the edge of Shane’s hip. Shane’s sweating, his hair sticking to his forehead as he continues rutting into Ryan’s hand, getting himself closer to the edge. Just feeling the response from Ryan’s body is enough to make him slightly dizzy.

His knot has fattened up as much as he thinks it can and every now and then on a downstroke, Ryan squeezes it. But it’s still not enough. He moves his hand from the side of Ryan’s head and slips it down between their bodies. It feels so good to have constant pressure on his knot — just the way he likes it — and Ryan focuses on thumbing at the tip of his cock, where it’s reddened and leaking steadily.

“You’re going to make me come,” Ryan tells him between uneven breaths and Shane hasn’t really given him anything other than a finger and place to rub against, but his mind whites out. A good alpha makes their omega come, and Shane’s ridiculous instincts are all he can focus on, and it’s clear Ryan knows. He knows exactly what Shane needs.

Shane comes before he can even give a warning, spilling over Ryan’s knuckles as he strokes him through it, and it feels like it goes on for an eternity, his senses narrowing down to Ryan, because that’s all he cares about.

“That’s it, Shane,” Ryan encourages. “Just like that.”

It feels a little like Shane leaves his body because when he comes back to himself, he's missing a section of time and Ryan’s flopped against his chest, nose pressed to Shane’s skin, as a warm, wet spot grows against Shane’s hip through Ryan’s sweats. Ryan’s clenching perfectly around his finger and he’s breathing raggedly as he comes down from his own high.

“Was that the worst of it?” Shane asks when they eventually separate, because for now, the burning under his skin has retreated enough to let him think.

“It depends,” Ryan says, his mouth on Shane’s throat, like he can’t help himself.

“On what?”

Ryan kisses up to the corner of his mouth and says, “I dunno.”

Shane can’t help but laugh, his mind and body still soft and hazy, but he appreciates Ryan’s unhelpful honesty. He draws Ryan in for a proper kiss and holds him close, because he knows that even if the worst is yet to come, they’ll survive it together, just like they do with everything else.

*

“_Fuck_, Shane,” Ryan pants, rutting forwards like he can’t help it. His cock is hot against the dip of Shane’s hip and his movements are frantic and uneven.

Shane blinks tiredly, his body waking before him. They’ve been sleeping in fitful snippets between the flares of Shane’s heat, and he’s lost track of how many times they’ve both come. It feels different now, though.

“_Shane_.”

Ryan’s burning up against him, his hands greedy on Shane’s body, and Shane realizes with a jolt in his stomach that they’ve finally synced up. He slides a hand under the sheets, trailing down Ryan’s back to slip between his legs. He’s so wet Shane finds himself bucking forward, like his body knows exactly what it wants and how to get it.

“Yeah, Shane,” Ryan exhales, finding his mouth for a quick kiss. “That’s your cue.”

He kicks away the sheets and Shane gets his hands on his waist, carefully manhandling him onto his side, his back to Shane’s chest.

“Is this good?” he asks, nipping at Ryan’s neck and feeling slightly overwhelmed as Ryan slides one knee up, offering an unending opportunity.

“Yeah,” he says, reaching back for Shane. “Knot me like this.”

Shane can barely get his brain to work. In the past few hours, Shane’s had both his tongue and fingers inside Ryan, but things hadn't progressed any further until now. Now, when Ryan is so perfectly wet for him and, when Shane slips two fingers into him, stretches so effortlessly — another sign that he’s deep within the clutches of his heat.

“You feel — ” Shane starts, but can’t actually put anything into words. Ryan squeezes around his knuckles and pushes backwards, silently asking for more. Shane nudges a third finger into him in response and enjoys the noise Ryan makes as he’s stretched.

“You don’t have to — ” Ryan starts, his voice breathless.

“I know,” Shane replies, because he does. Ryan doesn’t need to be fingered open. Shane probably could have pushed inside from the minute Ryan woke him, but he wants to give this. He wants to feel how ready Ryan is.

“_C’mon_,” Ryan pleads and Shane doesn’t need to be told twice. As much as he enjoys the feeling of Ryan around his fingers, he wants his heat to start breaking.

He pulls his hand away and uses the wetness from Ryan to slick himself a little. He’s already so hard — though he doesn’t think he’s actually stopped being hard since his heat started.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Shane warns, but the second he lines himself up, Ryan lets out a happy sound and starts to push back against him again.

Sinking inside feels like he’s finally satisfying the itching that’s been lurking under his skin for over a month now, and he has to press his face into Ryan’s shoulder and take a handful of steady breaths to ground himself.

“You okay?” Ryan asks, like he already knows, and Shane kisses a trail along his skin in response.

“I wish I could smell you,” Shane admits quietly and Ryan lets out loud, unashamed groan and pushes back enough that Shane slips the rest of the way inside.

“C’mon, Shane,” he urges, and Shane doesn’t try to hold back.

He tucks his hand under the back of Ryan’s knee and nudges it up a little higher so he can get deeper, and then begins to gently rock his hips forward. Ryan sighs softly, like it’s just what he needs, and Shane loses himself in the sounds of them moving together. It feels so perfect and, after such a long build-up, he can’t believe this is his to have now.

He shifts his hand to Ryan’s cock, curling his fingers around him with the intention of jerking him off in the way he’s learned Ryan enjoys. But Ryan’s hand settles on top of his and pauses him.

“Don’t make me come yet,” he says and Shane presses his nose behind Ryan’s ear and breathes evenly. He knows it’s probably just his heat, but being able to get Ryan so close, so quickly, makes Shane’s chest ache with happiness.

“You’ll come when I knot you?” Shane asks and Ryan nods quickly.

“Yeah. Yeah, you know I will.”

His knot’s already swelling, the urge to plug Ryan up becoming too much to think about. He knows it’s going to be perfect and once they’re tied, they can probably nap for an hour or so before finishing the rest of their heats. It feels so natural to share this together.

“Can I?” he asks, pushing deep enough for the edge of his knot to catch on Ryan’s rim. He’s so wet that it wouldn’t be an issue to slip inside, but Shane figures it’s probably polite to ask first.

“Yeah, you idiot,” Ryan pants, letting out a breath of amusement. “That’s kinda the point.”

He turns his head and Shane doesn’t even need to be told what to do before leaning over to kiss him. He can’t get enough of the warmth of Ryan’s body and how easily he gives everything to Shane. His kisses seem so effortless, but they still make Shane’s toes curl because Ryan never half-asses anything. With his lips and gentle swipes of his tongue, he makes Shane understand how much he wants it, how much he needs it.

Shane lets his knot slip inside as Ryan tugs carefully at his bottom lip with his teeth. It’s not big enough to stretch Ryan out all that much, but Ryan still exhales a low groan against Shane’s mouth.

“You’re going to ruin me,” Ryan murmurs, rolling his hips and tugging at Shane’s knot enough to make it swell a little more.

“Yeah,” Shane agrees. “That’s the plan.”

Ryan grunts and finally moves his hand, encouraging Shane to start jerking him off again, which Shane is more than happy to do. He rocks his knot deeper into him, feeling it begin to fatten in earnest, like it knows it’s exactly where it needs to be.

“_Shane_,” he breathes, pushing back with a little more force, like he’s ready for whatever Shane has to give. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

Shane speeds up his hand on Ryan’s cock and fucks into him a little harder. It’s more of a grind now, than a thrust, but he knows he has to be rubbing his knot against Ryan’s prostate because he goes wonderfully incoherent, forgetting how to use his words between one breath and the next.

Shane thinks they’re both as close to the edge as each other, but, selfishly, he wants to see Ryan get there first. He wants to feel him come around his knot and lead Shane through his own orgasm. Ryan’s always such a good leader — in work, in life — and Shane knows it can be true for this too.

“Yeah, yeah, _yeah_,” Ryan encourages, his whole body beginning to tense against Shane’s own.

He turns his head and buries it into the arm Shane has tucked around him, inhaling like all he needs to get him the rest of the way there is Shane’s scent. He pulls in deep lungfuls, his back shifting against Shane’s chest, and Shane reaches down to give Ryan’s balls a quick squeeze.

“Oh _god_!” Ryan cries, his body jerking to its own rhythm as Shane gets his hand back on him as he comes.

He tightens so hard around Shane that Shane almost thinks he might blackout. He keeps stroking Ryan, making sure he drags the pleasure out as long as he possibly can before Ryan sags bonelessly into the mattress.

“Oh _fuck_,” he heaves out, muffled by Shane’s skin as he kisses along it. “C’mon in, Shane, the water’s lovely.”

He shouldn’t be coherent, not when he’s still in heat and coming down from the high, but Ryan’s always been full of surprises.

He tucks his face against the back of Ryan’s neck and wonders how something so good could be out of his reach for so long. But the fact that he has Ryan now means everything to him. He bucks his hips only a handful more times and then presses in as deep as he can get his knot to go before he comes.

His vision whites out and the static in his ears sounds like waves crashing against the shore — but it’s perfect. Ryan’s nestled against his chest, clearly not going anywhere anytime soon, and Shane’s whole body seems to loosen, like he’s pulling in the first breath of fresh air after weeks of nothing. Everything feels better and lighter, and when he finally slides back into the warmth of his own body, Ryan’s rubbing a hand along his forearm, emanating a happiness that Shane can feel deep in his chest.

“Jesus christ,” Ryan murmurs. “We never half-ass anything, huh?”

Shane doesn’t really remember how to speak, but he thinks Ryan understands because he laughs quietly and then lets out a long exhale.

“I feel like I could sleep for a week,” he tells Shane, shifting his hips like he’s trying to find the most comfortable position. It tugs on Shane’s oversensitive knot, but he doesn’t try to stop him because it’s only fair that Ryan gets to decide how they fit together when Shane's stretching him so much.

“I could sleep, too,” Shane eventually gets out, shifting to rest his head a little closer to Ryan’s own, his nose tucked into Ryan’s hair. It smells like it could use a clean after god knows how much sex they’ve had, but Shane suspects it’ll be a while before they’re ready for that.

“Disco nap,” Ryan mumbles, already sounding half-asleep, but Shane still laughs. It’s what Ryan always says every time they go to bed after a late night ghost-hunt, but this time Shane’s exactly where he wants to be. Instead of being an entire bed apart, they’re carefully intertwined and Shane knows it doesn’t get much better than that.

“Disco nap,” Shane agrees, and finally shuts his eyes.

*

Shane loses an entire day to his heat. It’s a blur of sex and tangled limbs and Ryan pushing onto his knot like it’s the only thing he can remember to do. But with every passing hour together, Shane feels the burning slowly disappear from under his skin. By the time his knot finally starts refusing to swell, he feels a bone-deep satisfaction within him that he’s not sure he’s ever felt before.

He thinks it’s late in the afternoon when he finally drags himself out of bed long enough to pee and crack open the bedroom window. The air that blows in is cool and fresh, and he hesitates just long enough to draw in a few deep lungfuls, letting it clear his exhaustion-fuzzed mind.

Ryan stirs among the sheets, his head emerging in a dark tangle.

“Wha— ?” he mumbles, blinking tiredly as Shane tucks himself back in beside him.

“You okay?” Shane asks, watching Ryan brush his hair off his forehead with a grunt of annoyance.

“M’tired,” he admits and Shane finds himself yawning in response, which makes Ryan laugh quietly. “I think my heat’s finally ended.”

Shane nods in agreement before readjusting the pillow under his head so he can lie down and still watch Ryan. “Hungry? I can order food.”

“I want more sleep first,” he says, shifting into Shane space like he can’t help himself and it’s an automatic reaction now. “And maybe we can go another round, just to make sure we’re free from everything.”

Shane huffs a laugh, because he’s almost certain they already made sure of that a few orgasms prior, but he still meets Ryan’s mouth halfway. Despite the soreness in his body, he wants everything Ryan’s willing to give him, but now he knows that’s the way he always feels. It’s not just his heat.

The kiss Ryan gives him is slow and deep and completely unhurried, and Shane discovers it’s his new favorite kind of kiss to share. He melts into it and lets Ryan draw him close again.

*

“Why am I so tired?” Ryan asks, voice muffled because his head is down on Shane’s kitchen table, like the effort of raising it is just too much. “We slept for like sixteen hours.”

It’s true. They’ve only just emerged from Shane’s bedroom, needing food more than anything else. Tucked up under the sheets watching Ryan towel-dry his hair after showering, Shane had put in an order for a stupid amount of pizza and garlic bread that should be arriving any minute now.

They’ve made it as far as the kitchen, but anything more than that seems like too much effort for Shane right now. He has a steaming cup of coffee tucked between his hands and he’s letting it slowly wake him up.

“Make me tea,” Ryan says with a groan and Shane knows without a doubt that his heat is gone because he kicks at Ryan under the table.

“Get it yourself.”

Ryan blows out a breath that’s a borderline laugh. “I liked you better before.”

“Hope you didn’t get used to it.”

Ryan drags himself upright, leaning his cheek on a closed fist as he smiles. “Stupidly, I liked you before that even happened.”

Shane shakes his head and scoffs. “Idiot.”

When Ryan laughs, it lights up his whole face, regardless of how tired he seems. “I wanna take you out,” he says suddenly.

“Like a hitman?”

“Partly,” Ryan agrees, “but mostly just for dinner.”

Shane smiles into his coffee cup as he takes a sip before setting it down. “We can do that.”

“After another day of sleep,” Ryan bargains and Shane nods solemnly in agreement.

“That sounds great, but I think we’re doing this backwards.”

“Conventional is nice,” Ryan tells him, “but this is nicer.”

Shane feels himself soften at the admission and this time he doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s smiling. It’s a distraction when the doorbell rings, but he finds it a little easier to stand when it means he can shift around to Ryan’s side of the table and lean all the way down into his space.

Ryan tips his head back and lets Shane kiss him gently, grinning against his mouth like he can’t help it.

“Shane,” he murmurs tenderly, making Shane’s stomach flip happily, “go get the food because I’m starving.”

Shane laughs directly in his face before he pulls away, watching the way Ryan grins in response. He presses a hand to Ryan’s forehead and gently shoves him back.

“Asshole,” he complains, but Ryan looks at him like he doesn’t care about the food at all, not in the grander scheme of things. Shane dips down for another quick kiss as the doorbell rings again and Ryan reaches around to give him a pat on the ass.

“You’re the best,” he says and Shane glances over his shoulder as he walks away.

“Don’t forget it,” he tells him and the smile Ryan shoots him says he never will.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to share feelings, you can also find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/blacktofade) and [Tumblr](http://blacktofade.tumblr.com/).


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